


Regained

by spyfodder



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Heavy Petting, M/M, gentleness in all things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spyfodder/pseuds/spyfodder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a stage of roughness to every keen blade.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hanzo was as methodical as he was stubborn, a fact that Genji knew all to well. 

Starting with his hands, the elder brother's attention was gained. 

Genji knew the other man had to relearn his brother, just as he was relearning himself. 

Genji had learned patience. Hanzo already had the perseverance. 

A month's worth of days passed, and finally, Hanzo's touch had passed the circular light that adorned his cybernetic sibling's chest. Genji did not flinch when the wandering path rough, warm fingers took wound up at his hip. 

Hanzo had turned to his feet, then. Pedes, the doctor had said, sounded much more appropriate, for no human foot could sense like these. An elegant word for an elegant bit of anatomy. 

Genji did laugh, though, when Hanzo's fingertips curled, perhaps too deeply, into the mesh that was the back of his knee. 

Hanzo's smile was a rare thing, and treasured. 

It was a particularly calm day when those hands cupped around Genji's neck struts, thumbs just below the jaw of his mask. Hanzo's gaze was somehow sad, and the younger brother did not need words to know what their next move together was.

It came off, and Hanzo's gaze was scrutinizing, penetrating. 

Genji had thought himself prepared, but it was a sore lesson to learn that he was not.

Hanzo refused him the freedom to hide. Pushed the mask away, and came closer from where he knelt across from his brother. 

Thumbs, rough from use, were tender against scarred and healed skin. Followed the arch of cheekbones. The line of lips that parted in a shuddering breath. 

Hanzo kissed his tears away, and said nothing more as they held each other for the first time in what felt had been ages.

Worth the wait, Genji knew.


	2. Rooted

Time passed, and seasons changed. Genji could feel the encroaching cold of winter, the way his synthetic blood required onboard heaters to flow easily.

The way Hanzo barely surpressed a shiver one evening.

Hana was relentless in sticking her cold hands on the shinobi's frame to warm them up. Warm hands were important for controller-based gameplay. Genji could only grin.

It was the barest turn of Hanzo's head that the younger brother knew he had been detected. Hanzo knew, had always known, ever since...

Genji had not been able to find a hanten, but a haori was fair enough to slip over the elder's shoulders. 

Hanzo was silent, but pulled the hem of the garment close around him. Let Genji sit even closer to him while gazing out at the night from the balcony. 

Genji slept with his mask off that night, Hanzo's arm around his waist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soon, closeness of the most intimate type


	3. Ruin

Sometimes there was pain. 

Sometimes the drugs fed into his system took care of it, but sometimes there were no drugs, no relief. It felt like ants were burrowing beneath his exo-suit and he wished he did not have the strength to resist... 

Hanzo held him, though, gently. Close. He would lock the door to his room and cradle his crying and agonized sibling, saying nothing at all. 

It did nothing for the pain, but the gesture was strong enough to remind him just how much he loved the other.

Hanzo would not let him go until the other requested it. 

Even as they laid together in silence, Genji's back pressed to the other man's chest, strong arms around him. 

The pain did not go away, but it was a gesture strong enough to let Genji fall into dreamless sleep.


	4. Rest

There was something definitively dreamlike in the way light filtered through washi. 

Hanzo had checked into the ryokan, (who had known they had been built in the West?) and Genji had found a thrill in sneaking in through his brother's open room doors. It had been the plan all along, but excitement was excitement.

Hanzo had smiled. He knew his brother, now. Irreplaceable, unmistakable. 

Worth it, to be here in the other's arms, for the countless time, waking to the sound of distant running water, the smell of his sibling, the morning light coming in through partially open shoji. 

He was... content. Yes, that was the word. Peace, harmony, different from this feeling that resided within. He felt as if he had reached the end of another chapter and was ready to turn the page and begin anew. 

So still and silent he had been in his musing, hooded eyes lost in the shapes the shadows of trees had made across pale white paper doors, he had not noticed the subtle shift and wakefulness that had formed behind him. 

He did notice the distinct press of warmth against the back of his neck. The spread of fingers over his belly.

They both knew the other was awake. 

The kiss lingered, the touch slid lower.

Dragons did not need words to speak.

Unspoken, on some transcendant level, they had existed for each other, a single touch nigh forgotten having bound an unbreakable thread between two burning souls. 

A thread that had frayed, dulled, but was still connected.

A thread that thickened and coiled, laid heavy in the low of Genji's loins as his brother's arms, possessive and capturing, held him from behind. The sweeping warmth of a broad palm over hip and thigh opened his legs, opened thin seams where heady slick wept over somehow throbbing, needy mesh. 

Hanzo's teeth were set into the side of his neck, biting synthetics that were just as warm and giving as flesh. The hand that had drawn over a thousand arrows, had lit over a thousand sticks of incense, laid firmly over where a heartbeat was dully felt behind protective plating. 

He was gasping, lost, but the grip around his frame moored his overwrought mind. 

He did not question the moment, the way his gasps turned into bitten, moaning sighs, as fingers curled into him, into oozing, soft warmth, spreading petals and delving deep. He did not question how Hanzo knew what he was doing - did either of them really know? - or why he pleaded for more. 

More of his brother's touch, the last vestige of humanity he wanted to cling to, more of how slick, wet fingertips slid against sensitive strips of biolighting, plunged once more into his needy, throbbing bud. 

Hanzo denied his own pleasure for the one in his arms, breathing sentiment, encouragement; lilting words of affection and longing rolled against the side of his other half's throat. 

The thread was strangling, suffocating, tangling deep inside of Genji, threatening to snap... but only straightened, twanging like a plucked string on the shamisen his most important person in the world had played for him at night. 

He crested, bucked, hissed the other man's name as he flooded the spot where Hanzo's fingers were still deep and thrusting in him, riding him through his fall. Holding him close in unfaltering arms. 

Arms that kept him close even as a tired body and mind wound down, returned to the floating world in which pictures were memories and shadows that played against pale paper. 

Arms that were still present, along with a clear, understanding gaze, when he came back. 

It had been well worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make of it what you will.


End file.
